


Swimming With Sharks

by ellebellebab



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Eventual AHOT6, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-02-28 12:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2733011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebellebab/pseuds/ellebellebab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael has lived in Camden NJ all his life, hes had it tough but he gives just as good as he gets, looking out for no one but himself. That is until he sees a young man being cornered by a group of thugs and his life is changed forever.</p><p>If you were to decide for some stupid reason to move to Camden, New Jersey there was a 78% chance that within the first 3 hours of entering you’d be getting your ass kicked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Villians Spend The Weekend

**I** f you were to decide for some stupid reason to move to Camden, New Jersey there was a 78% chance that within the first 3 hours of entering you’d be getting your ass kicked.

Michael Jones knew, he’d been living in the damn place for twenty two years and he’d been on the receiving end of more than 300 beatings. He’d had each arm broken four times a piece, his collarbone twice, at least a dozen broken ribs and hundreds of split lips and black eyes. 

That’s not to say that he was some little bitch who took a beating with his ass in the air. For every-time he’d been swung at there had been two swings right back. He learned from an early age that the only way he’d survive was to give as good as he got, and so he did, to everyone. Including but not limited to his step dad, his old boss, his new boss _(who was now actually his old boss)_ , a gang of losers who called themselves ‘The Camden Kings’ and a variety of junkie, parole skipping idiots who’d decided to take Michael on. 

It wasn’t like he went out looking for fights either. Nine times out of ten he got jumped when he was minding his own fucking business. The remaining 1 time was whenever someone decided to try and break into his shitty apartment. It wasn’t much, literally just one room with a fold out couch he’d actually saved up and bought because when he slept he wanted to be semi comfortable. A small fridge that usually only had a few beers and some jars of pickles because they lasted a long time and they were fucking delicious and some frozen peas in the freezer because he was often seen with them on his face and green peas were definitely more his colour than yellow corn. Other than that there was a cardboard box filled with whatever clothes he could ‘borrow’ from the surrounding stores in the area and a tiny television sitting in the corner that he’d found on the side of the road. 

Michael looked at the spot where his Xbox used to be, probably his most prized possession it’d been the only thing besides his sofa bed that he’d actually saved up for working nights at a food storage factory, a job that his bitch of an ex girlfriend has gotten him. He’d ended up having one too many disagreements with his aforementioned ex boss and had ended up walking out without a job but with a rather large sum of money in his pocket. 

He sighed, sitting down on the couch and reminiscing to the night when he’d come home and found his front door wide open with his clothes flung all over the place and his games nowhere to be seen. The guy who’d gotten away with the only remotely interesting thing in his life was lucky because if Michael ever found out who he was there wouldn’t be much of him left to play his beaten up copy of Halo 3. 

He sipped on his beer and relaxed into the softness of the couch, the springs groaning under him. It’d been a day like any other in beautiful Camden. He’d gone out looking for a job, being turned away from every corner store and gas station in the wider area. On his way home he’d narrowly missed being involved in a rather nasty looking brawl between a bunch of guys he thought he’d probably been able to take. He just couldn’t be bothered. After three straight weeks of trying to find work he’d officially ran out of money and his rent was due after the weekend. He was well and truly fucked. 

It was with that thought that tiredness finally overwhelmed him and he fell asleep, hand loosely grasping the beer bottle as his snores filled the tiny room.

————————————————

Michael awoke a few hours later, cursing when he found the remaining beer from his opened bottle had poured out onto his lap. He stretched, yawning before getting up and going to grab some pants, groaning when he realized he’d forgotten to go to the laundromat. 

"Well fuck" he said, looking outside at the setting sun and huffing out a resigned breath. He bundled up his dirty clothes, which was all of the clothes he owned to be specific, and shoved them into a garbage bag before grabbing his remaining quarters and walking to the laundromat which was thankfully only the next block over. 

He yawned and cursed his way through doing his laundry thinking back for a moment to the times when his mom would do it and he’d simply wake up to freshly laundered socks and underwear. He shook his head of the memories, jabbing the dryer buttons angrily and jumping up to sit on the neighboring washer, staring blankly into space and thinking of anything and everything except his childhood. He avoided those memories like the plague. 

It was a mere thirty minutes later when he was walking back to his apartment, garbage bag of clean clothes over his shoulder as his breath puffed against the cold air of the now dark streets. He was alert, even though the garbage bag had only his clothes in it he wouldn’t put it past someone to try and jump him for it, it’d happened before. 

He was nearing his apartment, thinking about getting in some clean clothes and curling up on his couch with whatever food he could find in his fridge when he heard a shout to the left of him. His head instantly snapped towards the sound, eying off the scene near him. There were four guys surrounding another, from the looks of him he wasn’t from Camden, the fact that his face was bruise free and his eyes were filled with an abundance of fear as he took in the men surrounding him from behind his thick rimmed glasses was a sure sign that he was from out of town.

"Please, you can take my money, I don’t fucking need it, just don’t hurt me." His voice stammered out as he withdrew his wallet and threw it at their feet.  
  
"That wasn’t a good idea" Michael sighed, still surveying the scene. He watched as one of the men on the scared guys right reached a hand out and pushed him against the wall, fingers against his throat.   
  


"Oh you don’t fuckin’ need it huh? Well excuse me rich boy." He snarled his Jersey accent evident. Michael narrowed his eyes before noticing the knife in one of the other guy’s hands. 

"Fuck that" he said, taking one last look at the pleading boy before turning back towards his house. He didn’t need to get stabbed trying to help some guy who was stupid enough to be walking around here at night. He had taken probably five steps when he heard the idiot yell, his voice hoarse and scared and vulnerable and Michael felt his heart clench. He stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes tight and taking a deep breath. 

"God fucking damn it." He sighed. He turned and saw that the thugs were laughing, the one still holding the small guy against the wall punching him in the stomach hard. Before he knew it Michael was emptying the contents of his garbage bag in the middle of the sidewalk, turning to the crumbling brick fence next to him and dislodging some of the pieces, placing them quietly into the bag with a small sigh until it was heavy enough. 

He walked calmly up to the group, doing another quick check to see if anyone else had a weapon before clearing his throat loudly, watching with a wince as the guy with the glasses was punched hard in the right eye. The guys surrounding him turned around and eyed him carefully, the guy with the knife gripping it firmly and holding it out at Michael. 

"What the fuck do you want?" He said, eying the bag Michael was holding.    
  


"I want you to leave this guy alone; he’s obviously not from around here and doesn’t know how shit works."    
  


"Well that’s his fucking fault then isn’t it, now it’s yours too." A guy to his right wearing a dark beanie said.    
  


"You think so?" Michael replied, smiling calmly before throwing the bag upwards, the momentum of the pieces of brick pelting it towards the guy holding the knife and hitting him square in the jaw. 

Michael smiled when he heard a satisfying crack and reached down to pick up both the bag and the knife before any of the other guys could react. They all stood staring at each other, squaring each other off. The only sound was from the guy who’s jaw Michael had just obliterated and the small guy on the ground who was whimpering slightly. 

"So, what will it be boys?" Michael said voice low and dangerous as he eyed the remaining guys.    
  


"Whatever man." One of them said, holding his hands up. Another one picked his friend up off the ground as the remaining man picked the kids wallet up off the ground, kicking him once more in the ribs. 

"If we ever fucking see you again" he warned as they began walking away. 

"Then it will be too fucking soon" Michael called after them, waiting until they’d turned to down the block and out of sight before relaxing, throwing the knife to the ground and rolling his shoulders. 

"You okay dude?" He said to the guy on the floor, crouching down he raised his eyebrows when the smaller guy flinched away from him. 

"I wouldn’t have gone through all of that shit just to continue beating you up." He said, holding a hand out and looking at the guy with what he hoped was a comforting smile. 

"Thank you" Michael nodded and helped him to his feet, watching as the guy clutched his probably bruised ribs. 

"Come on, my apartments close, you can clean up and call someone." They hobbled across the street in silence, stopping only for Michael to collect his discarded clothes and return the borrowed bricks before continuing onto Michael’s apartment. 

He set the guy on his couch before going to his freezer, grabbing his handy pack of peas and wrapping it in a shirt from his laundry. He sat next to the boy, surveying his face and the purple bruise already forming around his eye. 

"They got you pretty good." He mused, as the boy took his now broken glasses off, his eyes brimming with tears. Michael cleared his throat, handing over the peas and staring at him. 

"Uh no offense dude, but what the fuck were you doing out here at this time, do you even know where you are?" He watched as the guy sighed, shoulders dropping. 

"I’m staying in New York with my, uh friends. We came for work. Anyway I got into an argument with one of them and I got so frustrated I just got on a random bus." 

"That’s a pretty fucking long bus ride." 

"Well I was pretty fucking pissed off." He said defensively. 

"The bus stopped a couple of blocks away and I realized that it was pretty bad idea and I just started walking because I had no fucking idea where I was." He said, looking up at Michael with a pained expression. Michael simply stared; this guy was a fucking idiot. 

"Those guys had a knife, they would have had no problem gutting you and leaving you there." He said with disbelief, watching as the guy flinched. 

"I know. Well now I know." He sighed, pressing the peas firmer against his eye. 

"I’m Ray, by the way." He offered, giving Michael what he probably hoped was a smile but came off as more of a grimace. 

"Michael." They shook hands before Ray actually did smile. 

"Well Michael, you’re my fucking hero." He said, pulling his phone from his pocket and groaning at the cracked screen. 

"Assholes." He murmured, before taking a deep breath and looking at the screen in dismay. 

"Uh you gonna call someone?" Michael asked. 

"Yeah, just bracing myself. My friends they’re kinda protective. And they’re probably gonna be kinda pissed that I ran away." He rolled his eyes at Michael. 

"Jeez you look more scared to call them than you did when that guy was squeezing your windpipe." Michael shot, moving from the couch to his cardboard box, he started to fold up his clothes. 

"You can stay here until they pick you up." He said coolly, watching as Ray started tapping buttons. Michael didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they were in the same room and the voice at the other end of the line was pretty fucking loud. 

"Geoff? It’s Ray." 

"Where the fuck _are_ you Ray?! We’ve been going out of our fucking minds!” Michael heard, Geoff he guessed, scream. Ray flinched again, biting his lip. 

"I know I’m sorry I just, I was real pissed off and I ran away like a little bitch." 

"You ran away? Ray we’re you’re fucking _boyfriends_ not your mom.” Michael’s head whipped around and he stared at the small guy on his couch, too engrossed in his conversation to realize Michael could hear every word. 

"I know, I’m sorry. I just.." 

"You don’t just anything, Gavin’s been going out of his mind saying it’s his fault and that anything happened to you it’d be on him." 

"Well I’m okay so he doesn’t have to worry. Well, kind of okay." Ray mumbled. Michael heard Geoff’s voice immediately go from angry to concerned quicker than Michael could pick a lock. And he could pick a lock pretty fucking fast.

"What do you mean? Where are you?" 

"Uhhh.." Ray looked at Michael " _Where am I_?” He hissed. 

"Camden" Michael replied calmly, not even bothering to seem like he wasn’t paying attention to every word. 

"I’m in Camden." 

"Are you fucking serious? Do you know how dangerous that place is?" 

"Uh yeah, I kind of do. I got jumped." Michael tuned the rest of the conversation out quickly, feeling his heart clench painfully for a moment as Geoff’s quick concerned voice began talking at Ray. His mind flashing to the first time he’d came home from school with a black eye. 

His mothers tender care as she patched him up and tucked him into the couch, her own soothing words as she cuddled him and told him _'Everything would be okay'_. What a load of shit. 

"Michael?" He whipped around, eyes training on Ray and the phone he had held out. 

"Geoff wants to talk to you" he said shyly, rolling his eyes. Michael grabbed the phone, holding it up to his ear. 

"Hello?" He grunted. 

"You’re Michael?" 

"That’s my name." 

"You got those assholes off of Ray?" 

"Jeez dude, what is this, the inquisition? Your little boyfriend was outnumbered so I saved his ass" 

"Thank you" Michael’s eyes widened in surprise and he shrugged realizing the man couldn’t see him. 

"Whatever man, I didn’t want to be an accomplice to a murder or anything." 

"Jesus." He heard the man sigh. 

"Uh, so are you gonna come pick him up? I can’t really cater to house guests." 

"Yes, get Ray to text me the address. Seriously, Michael, thank you" Michael clenched his teeth, feeling his eyes stupidly start to sting and a fucking lump form in his throat, all because he’d saved some fucking kid from being shanked. 

"Whatever" Michael said again, handing the phone to Ray. 

"I’m going outside for a minute, don’t fucking go anywhere." He said to Ray, waiting for the boys nod before quickly escaping the house. He walked out to the street, sucking in deep breaths of air and pressing his palms to his eyes. 

Some guy says five words to him and he turns into a fucking mess. Granted it was the nicest thing anyone had said to him in probably close to seven years but it shouldn’t have him wanting to start crying like some big baby. He took another moment, collecting himself and stuffing the emotions down into the deep dark place in his mind where he stored everything else he didn’t want to deal with before turning to go back inside. Ray turned to him quickly, smiling gently. 

"They’re on their way." Michael nodded coolly folding his arms and standing against the door.

"So pretty close friends huh?" He said smirking as Ray’s cheeks blushed.   
  


"You’re not gonna like, beat me up over it are you?" He asked apprehensively

"Dude, I think you’re beat up enough. Don’t worry about it. I’m not like, homophobic or anything." He said truthfully, because he wasn’t. Michael might be an asshole but he wasn’t an asshole to people because they liked certain other people. He was happy enough to let that kind of discrimination slide right past him.

He watched as Ray nodded, not quite meeting his eyes and looked around his apartment. 

"You’re place is, nice." 

"No it’s not" Ray huffed out a laugh, nodding slightly and wiping a hand over the unbruised side of his face. Michael stared at him for a moment with a small smirk before pushing off the wall, he opened a drawer at his tiny kitchen counter and scrounged around until he found a pack of playing cards wrapped in a rubber band. 

"Wanna play cards?" He offered, holding them up and turning to Ray. The young man smiled and nodded slowly. 

"Yeah, I’d like that"


	2. We're All Not Here For Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael has lived in Camden NJ all his life, hes had it tough but he gives just as good as he gets, looking out for no one but himself. That is until he sees a young man being cornered by a group of thugs and his life is changed forever.
> 
> If you were to decide for some stupid reason to move to Camden, New Jersey there was a 78% chance that within the first 3 hours of entering you’d be getting your ass kicked.

“WHAT THE FUCK.”  
Michael threw his cards down on the table and shook his head incredulously at Ray as he was beaten for the fifteenth time in a row at poker. 

“I told you, Man; I’m good at games.” Ray said, leaning back on the couch and linking his hands behind his head. His self-satisfied smirk was interrupted by a grimace of pain and a fresh flow of blood from the cut on his cheek but it was still enough to have Michael up and pacing his anger at being beaten out.

“Yeah, I thought that was you just being a fucking asshole.”

“Well yeah, but it’s also true.”

Michael scowled at the other man before gathering all the cards up and starting to shuffle them. They weren’t playing for money, considering neither of them had any thanks to the guys who’d jumped Ray and Michael’s lack of a proper job; but they were playing for Michael’s favourite kinds of currency: Pride and Bragging rights. At the end of the day it got you the farthest in Camden, and it made him more frustrated than he probably should be to be beaten so many times in a row at a game he was notoriously good at.

“I’ve broken guy’s jaws for beating me at poker you know.” Michael said, there was no malice behind his words though, instead a small smirk sent in the other man’s direction as he continued to expertly cut and shuffle the cards.

Ray simply shrugged looking apprehensively at Michael with a furrowed brow.  
“Why?” 

Michael stopped for a moment, his hands going still immediately as he processed the question.

“Why, what?”

“Why would you break a guy’s jaw over poker?”

Michael pondered it for a moment before shaking his head and laughing humorlessly at Ray.  
“You really have no idea how it works around here, Do you?”

Ray simply remained quiet, staring at Michael silently, like he was trying to figure out a particularly tough puzzle. Michael wondered if maybe he could.

“It’s just what happens, its how people operate here. You lose, you get beat up. You win, you get beat up. You’re indifferent, you get beat up but, like, worse. It pays to pick a side.” Michael said in a small voice.

It wasn’t always easy however to pick the right side, and it wasn’t always clear which group of shiv carrying losers was meant to be the right side. The side that’s worth putting your immediate life on the line for.

Michael had tried it for a few years. Tried running with a ‘crew’, they couldn’t be called friends. They had your back in a fight but there was no calling them up to hang out or to come over and braid each other’s hair. There was only ‘When are we gonna go after the other crews’ and ‘the boss has a shipment of so and so in; Lets drop it off’.

It was too much like the movies for Michael, too intense and with too many consequences. Getting out hadn’t been very easy and he’d had more than one of his bones broken but it was better than the alternatives. Becoming an addict or going to prison or worse. He’d seen it happen too many times he knew how it played out.

So he was impartial in the gang world of Camden now, and it came with a fucking price. 

“Michael?” 

“Huh?”

“You went somewhere for a second.”

He looked up at Ray’s concerned face and plastered on a smile.

“Thinking of ways I can fuckin’ beat your ass, hold on to your dick, Dude.”

He dealt the cards out but didn’t miss the way Ray’s hand shook slightly as he picked his up.

“You okay dude? Feeling alright?” 

“Yeah, just, you know, sore; realizing how close I was to getting fucking shanked. It’s all kind of, a lot.” he said, not quite meeting Michael’s eyes.

“Dude you don’t have to downplay the whole thing, you didn’t grow up here, you don’t know how it works, I’m sure it wasn’t a fucking walk in the park to go through” Michael shrugged. And it was true. Michael might be desensitized to how life was but he knew a whole bunch of people weren’t. 

Ray simply shrugged and fiddled with the cards in his hands. Michael sighed, putting his own cards down and looking at Ray with steady eyes.  
“Look, I’m sure it was fucking terrifying, I’m sure even being here with me is fucking terrifying. Sitting in some random guy’s shitty apartment? A guy who just beat the shit out of a bunch of guys with a pillowcase full of rocks? That shits insane.” he smiled a Rays lips twitched up into a grin.

“It sucks that it happened and you are a fucking idiot for coming out here by yourself but now you fucking know and you won’t do it again.” Michael said sternly, voice laced with something akin to a threat. 

“You’ve got that fucking right.” Ray said, laughing and shaking his head. 

“Good.” They both turned to their cards, Michael internally rejoicing when he found a King, Queen, Jack and a ten staring up at him when Ray spoke again.

“Why do you stay?” 

Michael blanched as Ray’s words hit him square in the chest. That was a good fucking question. Nothing was keeping him here, not really. Besides his shitty apartment that he wasn’t even paying for because he thought his landlord might be lying drunk in a ditch somewhere, he had absolutely nothing. Just years of scars that had accumulated on his body and enough nightmare fuel to keep him waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night for years to come. 

But he knew why he stayed. It was simple to him. 

“Cause it’s all I know.” He said. Michael looked down at his cards, frustrated.

“But it’s so dangerous.” Ray implored, Michael looked up and saw the others eyes, wide and not understanding and boring into his own.

“So am I.” 

Ray visibly straightened, swallowing audibly and almost comically.  
Michael shook his head and sighed.

“I didn’t mean that in like a menacing way so you can chill out. This place is just all I know, living here is all I know. I can’t work with people or live with people who don’t know what it’s like, who don’t understand why the fuck I am who I am okay? You’re born in Camden and you die in Camden. Might seem dramatic to the rest of the world but that’s how it works here” He was breathing heavily and his hand of cards were crinkled in his grip as he wondered how he’d gone from minding his own fucking business to having a deep and meaningful with some nerdy kid from fuck knows where. 

“But you don’t have to put up with it, you can leave.”

“You don’t fucking understand. You can’t leave. You’ve lived all your life as safe as you can be in your fucking bed at night. When you live here you don’t know if you’re gonna wake up tomorrow. Like I fucking said you’re born here and you die here and that’s all there is to it.” 

Ray looked at him sympathetically and it was all too much, too much for Michael who hadn’t had any sort of human decency shown to him in forever. Michael, who didn’t know how to explain to himself; let alone to this kid why he was living in this fucking shithole and why he felt like he could never leave.

“Fuck.” he muttered, pushing himself off the ground and striding over to his tiny bathroom, locking himself in there and turning to rest his back against the door.

His chest felt tight, his head felt hot and he struggled to keep breathing at all. Michael slid down until he was sitting with his back against the door and his head between his knees, breathing in and out deeply and closing his eyes against flashbacks of memories burning through his retinas.

“Michael?” he heard a timid knock and fisted his hands into his hair, grabbing onto the auburn locks and tugging to try and alleviate the building pressure in his skull.

“Just, give me a second okay?” he spat out, letting out a deep breath he hadn’t known he was holding when he heard Ray let out a small sigh but say nothing else.

Michael continued to slow his erratically beating heart, feeling the crushing waves of anxiety start to leave him as he sucked in gulps of air. 

It’d happened more times than he could count, as soon as Michael started questioning why he was living this way and what his life had eventuated to.  
It was why he couldn’t live any other way than how he was now, getting through each day, never expecting tomorrow but being thankful for yesterday.  
All he was good at was fighting to stay alive every day.  
So how was he expected to live anywhere else? 

“Ray?” he heard a knock on his front door and a muffled voice that sounded more suited to a 14 year old boy than a grown man.  
He took one more deep breath, collecting himself, before standing up and walking out to find Ray in the arms of a tall dark haired man, covered in tattoos. He seemed to be checking the younger man over with his hands, muttering words like ‘so worried’ and ‘fucking idiot’ into Rays ear.

Michael felt his heart clench painfully before he cleared his throat.  
The man looked up at him, worried, clear blue eyes finding his own with such intensity that he had to look away feeling vaguely shell shocked.

“You’re Michael?” he questioned keeping a hold of Ray but turning towards the other man.

Michael simply nodded, folding his arms and looking up at the pair of them.

“Thank you” Geoff implored, walking over to him and hugging Michael in such a quick, fluid motion that he had absolutely no time to react. He seized up, eyes wide and senses being overwhelmed as the presence of the man took him over. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind that besides fighting this was the closest he’d been to someone else in months. Maybe even in years. 

“Geoff.” he heard Ray say, his tone a warning that Michael appreciated when Geoff sheepishly let go of him and went back to Ray’s side, linking their fingers together and resuming his visual check of the younger man’s injuries, flinching as he tenderly traced his fingers over Ray’s bruised and bloody face.

“Thank you, I don’t know what would have happened but in a place like this I wouldn’t be surprised if we would have gotten a call from a fucking hospital.” he said, glancing at Michael before glaring at Ray who shrank under his gaze.

‘Good.’ Michael thought, the kids an idiot. He should feel bad.

“No problem, I didn’t wanna be a witness to a murder. The paperwork is always so fucking long.” Michael said, smirking when Ray’s eyes went wide with shock. Geoff simply looked at him with narrowed eyes. Ones that made Michael feel vaguely uncomfortable, like his whole soul was on display. He shifted in his spot. 

“I mean it though, thank you. I- We. The guys and I, We can’t ever repay you for looking out for him.” 

Michael felt his throat burn as he shrugged, turning to look out his tiny window at a flickering streetlight below.

“Don’t mention it.” he muttered.

They stood there for a few awkward moments before Ray yawned audibly and Geoff muttered something about the hospital ‘just as a precaution’.

“Here.” Michael turned to Geoff and went pale when he noticed the other man’s hand outstretched. Green and White bills visible and an imploring look on his face.

“What the fuck?”

“Take it? Like I said I don’t know how to repay you but I feel bad about not giving you anything.”

“Uh, no.” Michael said, feeling something akin to anger start a small fire in his belly.

“Please, Michael, I used some of your first aid kit. I’m sure you need-” 

“Get out.” Michael said softly, looking Ray in the eyes as waves of disappointment crashed over him. 

“Michael-“

 

“I’m not a fucking charity case. I saved your fucking twinky boyfriend’s ass because I’m a decent fucking human being, not because I wanted fucking pity money. I was getting along perfectly fine before I did it and I’ll get on perfectly fine after you guys get the fuck out of here.” 

He watched with narrow eyes at Ray’s own wide, shocked ones and Geoff’s impassive gaze as he let his words wash over them.  
He shrugged and went and sat on his couch, picking up his TV remote and turning it on to the only working channel, ignoring them completely.

“Michael…” Michael heard Ray say quietly but he didn’t look up. He saw Geoff pull him away from the corner of his eye.

“Thank you again, Michael.” 

He simply grunted at Geoff in reply, staring resolutely at the screen of his TV; waiting until a few moments after they’d shut his front door softly behind them before throwing the remote in his hand at the door and screaming loud and long in frustration. 

‘This is why,’ he thought miserably. Why he couldn’t be anywhere else, Camden was as much of a part of him as he was a part of Camden. There was no way going back now, it was in his blood. There’d be no one driving across the city to gather him in their arms and make sure he was okay.

Michael Jones looked out for one person and one person only. He just never knew if that one person was even fucking worth it.

—————————————

He eventually fell into a fitful sleep, usually after a day like the one he’d had he would’ve drank himself silly and then passed out, sleeping dreamlessly and long through the night. But he had one six pack of beer left and it was pointless anyway. Michael knew he’d still feel like shit tomorrow, he’d rather not add a hangover to the list of reasons why as well.

He dreamt of the shit he usually did when he was forced to take a long, hard, self-reflective look at his life. His mother, his step father, needles and belts and blows to the face racing through his mind at a million miles a minute as he scramble to make sense of everything.

He was having a particularly intense nightmare, thrashing from side to side on his couch and wondering why it was that he couldn’t breathe in his dream before realizing he wasn’t asleep anymore and he really actually couldn’t fucking breathe.

His eyes shot open and his vision was filled with a familiar grinning face.  
“Fuck.” He stammered out, muscles struggling as Michael tried and failed to move. His arms and legs were pinned down, he knew that much, and his breathing was seemingly obstructed by the leather boot currently crushing his windpipe, the smiling face belonging to one of the guys who still had their jaw in one piece from when he’d saved Ray.

No; This right here was why he didn’t help people. Fucking repercussions.  
“Did you think we’d let you get away with that little fucking stunt before? There’s no place for a fucking hero in this town.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the dramatics and struggled again before stopping still when the guy’s foot pressed down harder and he felt his airway start to cut off.

“We could kill you right fucking here, you know? Make sure you don’t pull shit like that ever again?”

Michael almost wished he would, felt his vision start to blur as his brain started to be starved of oxygen.

“But that wouldn’t be as fun as watching you suffer.” The guy said, removing his foot and laughing dangerously as Michael sucked in air with vigor for the second time that day.

“Okay boys, let’s do this.”

Michael barely had time to register before the four men holding each of his limbs picked him up and carried him onto the floor.

“Fuck.” he tried to yell, his throat dangerously raw from compressed for so long. It came out as no more than a pitiful squeak and he closed his eyes tight enough to see stars.

The first blow broke his ribs, two or three from what he could calculate. As he seized up against the pain from the hit he saw a glint of metal.

So they bought crowbars.  
That was not good.

The second blow felt like a fist and it split his lip open, knocking a tooth loose and sending a fresh wave of metallic blood spurting onto his tongue and the carpet next to him.

The third was another hit of the crowbar to his knee and he cried out, sure that his kneecap was smashed to smithereens. 

He felt white hot pain begin to explode from each area that he was hit from. His mind unthinking as Michael just surrendered to the beating. The dull thud of fists and metal on skin and bones consumed him entirely until finally one of them said something along the lines of ‘He’s had enough’. They sounded far away, and that might have been because he vaguely remembered being punched in the ear. Hearing wasn’t even one of his highest skills at the best of times, let alone seconds after getting the crap kicked out of him.

He struggled to open his eyes, struggled to figure out which parts of his body he could even still control.

The guy was back, and his ugly smile was filling Michael’s hazy vision to the point where all he wanted to do was tell him to fuck off.

“Now you know what side you’re on boy. There are no fucking hero’s. Just us and them.” The man patted the side of Michaels face and laughed at the groan it earned before straightening up and walking away, the men behind following him.

Michael only had time to register that one of them was holding his fucking television before he blissfully succumbed to the pain and passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops.  
> Yay for character development.  
> Nay for Michael getting his ass kicked.
> 
> The Title of the fic and all the chapter titles are lyrics from Vegas Lights by Panic! At The Disco.
> 
> My URL on Tumblr christmas-demarais if anyone wants to follow me for updates on when chapters will be out!


	3. We're Lost in a Dream Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has brief mentions of situations that allude to domestic violence.

If you sat down and looked through the entirety of Michael’s life up until the point where he was lying on the floor of his empty apartment, bruised and bloody and broken, you might ask yourself how the fuck he got there.  
  


You wouldn't be the only one.  
  


Michael tries to separate the first twelve years of his life from the second twelve as much as he can. It doesn't even seem like the same lifetime, he doesn't feel like his childhood even happened.  
  


He still grew up in Camden, and granted it was still dangerous, but his mother had managed to find herself an apartment in the better side of town, where you could actually walk around with money in your pocket and where he was free to sit and watch Saturday morning cartoons by himself at age ten while his mother was at work without fear of being kidnapped.  
  


It was just Michael and his mother and that suited him just fine. His dad had fucked off when he was still a baby, leaving his mom with no money and a nine month old baby. Michael didn't care about not growing up without a father, but he had a deep burning resentment for the man who left his mother. No one hurt her and got away with it.  
  


He remembered coming home after his first fight at school. He’d only been eight years old but the kid at school had managed to call his mother a name. Michael Jones's mother. It was the first time he properly experienced rage, he burnt white and hot with it and unloaded onto the kids face, only getting away with a few punches before he'd been dragged off by a teacher close by.  
  


He hadn't been able to understand why he was in so much trouble. The kid was being an ass hole, Michael didn't like ass holes especially ones who disrespected his mother, so he kicked his ass.   
  


Apparently it was a big deal.  
 

"He called you a name!"  
  


He crossed his arms and stared resolutely out the window of his mom’s dusty old ford as she clenched the steering wheel with white knuckles.  
  


"Michael that's no excuse you can't just hit every person who says something you don't like" she always tried to reason with him. Tried to teach him to see the good in people.  
  


"Why not?"

It didn't always work.  
  


"Because it's just not how you're meant to act" she sighed tiredly. Michael looked at her incredulously.  
  


"But Ma he called you, the S word" she swallowed uncomfortable and cocked an eyebrow at him.  
  


"So? I've been called much worse. Besides do either of you even know what that means?"  
  


"Andy said it’s the word you use for girls who date a lot of boys, which isn't anything like you!"  
  


He pouted when his mother laughed softly, grimacing when she reached out to tousle his hair.

“Exactly, nothing like me. Listen words only have power over you if you let them Mike. I'm not upset by what that boy said so you shouldn't be either."  
  


Michael mulled the words over for a moment, his mind flashing back to the brief explosion of anger he'd felt. He wasn't sure he was as understanding as his mom was.

Still, he smiled up at her and nodded anyway.  
  


"You're right. Sorry I got in a fight"  
  


"It's okay, just try not to do it again okay? Now, you should be in trouble but since it's lunchtime and we're already in the car, how about some ice cream?"  
  


"You mean I punch some kid in the face and now I get ice cream?"  
  


"Oh dear”  
  


His second fight hadn't been his fault, it actually hadn't. He was ten and his mom had taken up more hours at work to pay the rent, so he walked home from school. He didn't mind it, was quietly hoping he'd get a bike that Christmas so his trips home weren't quite so long, but other than that it was fine.  
  


Until one day when it wasn't.  
  


He saw a group of three kids up ahead as he made his way home and his mother’s voice flashed into his mind instantly.  
  


"If you see a group of bigger kids, make sure you avoid them, maybe cross the street or go a different way."  
  


"Why?"  
  


"I'm your mother don't ask questions just do as I say"  
  


And that was good enough for him. He crossed the road. Keeping his eyes forward and trying to keep the apprehension out of his stomach.

He'd just passed them, started to watch them fade into his peripheral when he felt something heavy hit hard into the back of his head.  
  


"What the f-?" he turned and saw the three kids laughing, already making their way over to him.  
  


"Man I didn't think that rock would reach you but it so did"

Michael watched them with narrowed eyes as they continued to laugh. Doing his best to calm himself down.  
  


"That fuckin hurt" he squeaked, voice breaking slightly.  
  


The kids looked at him for another moment before laughing again.  
  


"Damn, we were just gonna throw some rocks at you, maybe scare you a little bit but now I think I'd really like that backpack."  
  


Suddenly Michael was acutely aware of his weedy ten year old body compared to their taller, slightly fuller ones.  
  


"Just one problem" Michael began, feeling his heart thud quick in his chest.  
  


"What?"  
  


"Gotta catch me first ass holes!"  
  


They caught him pretty soon after that. Michael was not fast for a ten year old and his shoes that his mother said he would grow into didn't help his flight.  
  


His mother found him sitting outside the door to their apartment, one black eye, a split lip and a gashed forehead the only things he had on him. The kids had taken the rest, even his shoes.  
  


His mom had cried, holding him to her chest as he told her what happened before retrieving the first aid kit from under the sink and beginning to patch him up. She didn't speak until she'd handed him a packet of frozen peas for his eye.  
  


"There are people like those boys everywhere Michael. There's nothing wrong with running away from them okay? You're not a coward for running away."  
  


Michael nodded and pressed the peas gently against his eye, for once he didn't know if h agreed with her.  
  


After that fights became a more regular thing in Michael’s life. All the boys at his school started getting antsier, a lot of them itching to be like their older brothers and their fathers and kick some ass.  
  


Michael didn't have an excuse for it, he just didn't want anyone to pick on him. Getting punched hurt like hell and if all it took was to throw a few punches first to stop him from feeling that pain he'd do it.  
  


So by the time he was twelve he was pretty well versed in the art of school yard boxing.  
  


By the time he was twelve his mother had also met a guy.  
  


His name was Peter except he didn't look like any fat cartoon dad to Michael. He looked more like the type of guy who'd pull your jugular out through your ass hole if you looked at him wrong.

 

* * *

 

He wasn't that bad in the beginning, had shook Michael's hand when they'd met before slipping an arm around his moms waist and asking Michael if he liked burgers.  
  
  
Obviously Michael did, but he still simply shrugged his shoulders, narrowing his eyes at the way the man paid him no mind as he led Michael and his mother out the door and to a diner down the street for dinner.  
  


He wanted to hate the guy, but the way his mothers eyes lit up every time he spoke or cracked a joke that was appallingly unfunny caused Michael to keep his mouth shut, barely cracking a smile or saying more than was absolutely necessary when Peter's slow drawling voice was directed at him.  
  


When Michael turned 13 a few months later Peter had already moved in. It started with a few things, Michael would scratch his head at an unexplainable toothbrush next to the sink or a mens sweatshirt that definitely wasn't his in his clean washing, but once he came home and saw empty boxes out on the street in front of their apartment he put the pieces together.  
  


It was okay, Peter had video games at least and would actually let Michael play them, he'd take Michael's mom out for dinner and still made her giggle in a way that had Michael unwillingly smile when he heard her. He was kind of an alright guy and Michael was beginning to feel comfortable with having Peter in his and his mothers life.  
  


Then it all turned to shit, as god damn fucking usual.  
  


It started off small and even so Michael looks back and wishes his then fifteen year old eyes could have seen more than they did.  
  
  
He came home after school to loud voices coming from inside the apartment, angry words coming from his mother and Peter's mouth that he couldn't understand or put into any context. They'd stop as soon as he got home, Peter going out to work his night job and Michael's mother patting his head shakily with red rimmed eyes before lighting up a cigarette and drawing it in with closed eyed relief.  
  


Michael paid it no mind, he figured adults fought, the neighbours to the right of them had had the cops called on them more than once a month because of the yelling, but they always made up later much to Michael's dismay, there were some things he didn't need to hear and his gross neighbours banging was definitely one of them.  
  


He got suspicious when he came home one day and there was no yelling, only crying.  
  


“Mom? Mom, what's wrong?” he gasped when she looked up at him, a nasty looking cut across her rapidly swelling lip.  
  
  
He immediately felt his blood rise, his hands turning to fists and his eyes angrily sweeping the apartment.  
  
  
“Where the fuck is he?”  
  
  
“Oh no, no sweetie, it wasn't him I swear, I just fell over, okay? Peter's at work, I just, I fell and hit the coffee table” she placated, wincing when Michael reached out a hand to catch a drop of blood as it fell from her lip.  
  
  
But he believed her. He'd believe anything his mother would say of course, and even though he wasn't ready to start calling Peter dad he'd always been nice before, to both of them, for the most part.  
  


The following months went on somewhat like that. Michael got more and more disinterested in school and more interested in smoking cigarettes behind the gym and making out with girls. He was getting into fights more than ever as his mouth kept getting him in trouble, but he'd come home with less bruises on his face and more bruises on his knuckles as time went one. The kids at school at least, had learnt to leave him alone, it was the odd guy who wanted to jump him on the way home that he had to test his skills against.  
  


Maybe that's why he never noticed. Because he was so distracted in his own stupid life to notice that his mom had been falling down a lot. That Peter had been drinking more and that their fights had turned from loud arguing to icy cold stares across the dinner table.  
  
  
The night before it happened burnt itself into Michael's mind like nothing else ever had.  
  


He played it over and over like it was a bad movie.  
  


He came home from school, kissed his mom hello, made himself a sandwich and stared at his homework for a hot second before inevitably turning on Peter's Xbox until it was time for dinner.  
  


They all ate, steadfastly not speaking and instead choosing to leave the TV on, then Michael took a shower.  
  


He did the dishes, then he said goodnight.  
  


He always left for school early, running to catch the bus for the thirty minute drive over there and the next day was no different, Michael stuck an apple in his mouth and pulled his jacket on before running out the door, content from the sound of Peter's soft snores that everything was fine.  
  


When he got home that next night he felt like his whole world had imploded.  
  


Loss is a really funny thing. For Michael it never really meant much, he could lose a possession and not really care, they were replaceable. If he lost a fight he'd stew for a few hours or days before tracking whoever it was down and kicking their shit in. Michael always got back what he lost or realised it was too insignificant to care very much about.  
  


Everything was gone. He walked into the apartment expecting to see his mother getting dinner ready and asking him how his day was. Instead he saw emptiness. There were still indents in the carpet from where furniture had been sat, the kitchen counter still had a ring from a cup of coffee being sat on it, he could still smell his mothers perfume.  
  


It took him five minutes to run to each room in the house, finishing in his own, untouched one. He spotted the envelope immediately and he lifted it with shaking fingers, opening it carefully.

 

_Michael,_   
  
_I'm sorry. I had no other choice, one day you might understand._   
_I love you, be well._   
  
_Mom._

 

He doesn't remember much else after that. He'd woken up when the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky, his fist closed tight around the letter and his legs pulled up to his chest. He licked his lips tasting the dried salt and his mouth set in a hard line.  
  
Loss is a really funny thing, and Michael eventually knew that you couldn't ever lose people unless you let them become apart of your life in the first place. Everyone always left eventually. All he had was him.

 

* * *

 

“It was bad Jack” Geoff scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, stretching his legs out to lean them against the coffee table in front of him. He felt Jack's arm stretch around behind him and He exhaled, leaning into the embrace and letting it ground him instantly.  
  
“The doctor said Ray was fine, lucky but fine.” Jack insisted.  
  
“Exactly he was lucky, if that Michael kid hadn't have been there it could have been..” Geoff trailed off, feeling the lump rise in his throat at the thought that had been plaguing him ever since Ray had first ran off.  
  
He heard Jack tutt quietly next to him as he rubbed his arm soothingly, and Geoff closed his eyes.  
  


“You didn't say much about him”  
  


“About who?”  
  


“Michael”  
  


Geoff was silent for a moment, he and Ray had left on less than favourable terms with the kid and although he wanted to there wasn't much else that could be said, he told Jack as much.  
  


“There has to be something we can do for him, he could have been saving Ray's life we don't know what could have happened”  
  


“I tried to give him money, he looked like he could use it I don't think he's eaten in a few weeks by the look of him. He wouldn't take it, I think he's too proud.” Geoff shrugged.  
  


“We talking about Michael?” Geoff nodded as Ryan came and sat on the coffee table in front of him.  
  


“How's Ray?”  
  


“Good, Gavin's keeping him occupied, in a way that is conducive to his healing I assure you” Ryan added hastily at Jack sound of objectification.  
  


“Well money aside, I want to say thank you”  
  
  
“To Michael?”  
  


Geoff watched as both Jack and Ryan nodded. They looked tired and Geoff was aware of how stressful this situation had been not only on him but on them too. Once they'd found out Ray was injured they'd had to figure out a way to pull him from the convention without causing too much suspicion. One tweet about a stomach bug and all was well but it meant that the others felt obligated to pick up the slack that missing a person did at their booth.  
  
  
“Guys he's not, receptive to thanks. I don't know if there's much point. Don't get me wrong I would love to do something for him but I don't think he'd accept anything.” Geoff shrugged.  
  
  
“All I want is him to accept my thanks, all money aside it'd be nice to just shake his hand and make sure he knows that we appreciate it.” Geoff sighed as he looked into Ryan's steely resolve, knowing there wasn't much point in arguing. They flew out tomorrow and Ryan wouldn't let up and honestly Geoff wouldn't mind visiting the kid again, making sure he left things on reasonably good terms in comparison to the terrible conditions they'd been left in when he picked up Ray.  
  
  
“Ugh fine, stop looking at me like that, we'll go.” he returned Ryan's warm smile and pecked Jack quickly on the lips before rising to grab his keys and wallet.  
  


“Make sure Ray eats, we shouldn't be longer than a few hours”  
  


“Be careful” Jack said almost nervously, placated but a kiss from Ryan but shifting slightly where he stood.  
  
  
“We will.”

 

* * *

 

“This neighbourhood is terrible” Ryan said, his voice sounding sad rather than judgmental.  
  
  
Geoff made a sound of agreement “It gets a little worse, brace yourself”  
  
  
They passed three fights in Michael's neighbourhood alone and once they pulled up outside they quickly checked the street before dashing from their car to the front door.  
  


The halls were dark and Geoff felt Ryan stiff next to him as they climbed the stairs to Michael's apartment.  
  
  
“That's weird” Geoff said quietly as they rounded the corner, “His doors open” he shot Ryan a quick look, the other' eyebrows furrowed as he pushed the door open slowly.  
  
  
“Michael?” Geoff felt around next to the door for the light switch, eyes squinting when he found it as they adjusted to the sudden yellow light.  
  
  
“Oh god” he heard Ryan gasp, as his own eyes scanned the room he realised why.  
  


“Michael!” he was laying on the ground, blood soaked into the carpet around him, he wasn't moving.

  
“Call an ambulance” Geoff said unnecessarily, running over to the kid as Ryan got through to an operator straight away.  
  
  
“Michael, buddy, can you hear me?” Geoff said, running his fingertips over the boys wrist anxiously until he found a faint pulse.  
  


“He's still breathing but only barely.”  
  


“They're on their way” Ryan said, dropping to his knees next to Geoff and letting his eyes drift over the young man’s battered body.  
  
  
“Who did this?” he whispered as Geoff let his fingers drift from Michael's wrist to lace carefully with his fingers.  
  
  
“I don't know”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took so long, and it's a bit all over the place and the ending is the literal worst but it's done! yaaaaaaay!
> 
> i think i'm over my writers block with this story so look for some more chapters soon!


	4. We're Bored With Looking Good

Eight fractured ribs, ten bruised. Two broken arms, one broken jaw, countless black eyes, hundreds of minor stab wounds and two concussions. In Michael's twenty four years of life he'd patched himself up more times than he can remember.

 

Before his mom left she used to do it, used to tenderly survey his swollen cheek with a tutt and a motherly smile as she applied a butterfly bandage and reminded him for the umpteenth time that fighting never got him anywhere.

 

After she left he did it himself. There was no one to hug him afterwards but he got good at stitching up knife wounds and knew which antiseptic he should steal that wouldn't irritate his skin. He got used to wrapping his ribs when they hurt so much he couldn't breathe, relying on the over the counter pain killers they sold in the grocery store that were easy to slip into his pocket. Hospitals were a fucking nightmare, so many questions and bills that he couldn't possibly afford. Once again it was easier for him to just do it himself.

 

When he broke his arm the first time his mom and rushed him straight to the nearest hospital, the pain had been so unbearable he couldn't even remember what happened. Only how worried his mother looked and how much it fucking hurt when his arm was set, a blue cast put on it. He got him mom to write on it first she signed it with a heart and a kiss on his cheek.

 

His arm got broken after he looked at someone the wrong way when he was 20, his mind immediately flashing back to the first time it had happen as he made his way to the hospital. It didn't hurt as much this time but he didn't know if that was just because he was used to pain more now rather than when he was 8 years old. He waited in the hospital for four fucking hours before a doctor saw him, asking him what colour cast he wanted.

 

“Blue” he replied.

 

* * *

 

“Is he okay?”

 

Geoff sighed, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the waiting room wall of the hospital., “I don't know Jack, there was so much fucking blood I've never seen that much blood on the outside of a person before”

 

“Thank god you guys went there, I can't even...”

 

“I know. Are the lads okay?”

 

“They're asleep. Listen I think I should go home with Ray and Gavin tomorrow but if you and Ryan want to stay I can reorganise your flights?”

 

Geoff smiled in spite of the situation, trust Jack to think of every single thing including the 9am flight Geoff had forgotten, “I honestly don't know what we'd do without you. I'll try and get back to the hotel before you guys leave okay?”

 

“No problem. Just make sure that kids okay alright? I'm glad you're there, I'd hate the thought of him waking up with no one there”

“Me too. I love you I'll talk to you soon okay?”

 

“Love you too”

 

Geoff pressed end and closed his eyes, head hitting the wall with a soft thud. The ambulance had taken a long fucking time, probably wary of the situation it would pull up too in the neighbourhood they were in and Geoff didn't blame them.

 

When the paramedics had seen Michael they'd exchanged wary looks before loading him up and it didn't settle well in Geoff's stomach. That was three hours ago and they still hadn't heard anything and Geoff's patience was wearing thin.

 

“Here, you look like you need it”

 

Geoff cracked his eyes open to see Ryan, Styrofoam cup in outstretched hand and he smiled warmly, accepting it with a nod, “You are a saint Ryan Haywood.”

 

“Don't thank me just yet, it's vending machine quality” he replied, holding his own up with a sour expression.

 

It was true the coffee was watered down to decaf at best but it was better than nothing and stoked a little fire in Geoff's fading brain. He sat with Ryan on some of the hard plastic seats and sighed.

 

“She said anything?” Ryan asked, nodding towards the admin on duty and Geoff shook his head.

 

“I tried asking but 'We're not immediate family'” Geoff raising his fingers in air quotes, shooting the woman a spiteful look, “I told her I didn't think he even had any family but apparently that doesn't matter and she has to check the records to see if she can locate a family member and if she can't she'll let us know, god knows when that will be”

 

Ryan rubbed Geoff's back, palm warm and open and relieving some of his tension, “Well we'll wait. Jack messaged me about the flights, I'll call Burnie tomorrow. We'll stay as long as we need to okay?”

 

Geoff couldn't resist leaning in a pecking the man on the lips, “I honestly don't know how I've stayed alive on this planet without you and Jack”

 

“What about Gav and Ray?”

 

“Same statement but for very different reasons” Geoff sighed.

 

Unsurprisingly the hospital grade coffee didn't aid the men at all in staying awake and Geoff was suddenly being shaken awake, eyes opening suddenly. He looked down and saw Ryan breathing evenly on his shoulder.

 

“Sir?” he looked up and saw a young looking woman dressed in doctors scrubs.

 

“Rye? Rye..” he watched as Ryan blinked the sleep from his eyes and took in the doctor in front of them, quickly sitting up.

 

“Hello Mr?”

 

“Ramsey and Haywood” Geoff said, pointing to himself and Ryan before shaking the Doctors hand.

 

“Lovely to meet you both, you were to two who found Michael? Do you know him?”

 

“We're new friends” Geoff said carefully, “The nice kind, the kind that aren't into beating fucking kids into a bloody pulp”

 

She surveyed them both for a moment, Geoff thought he saw her eyes flicker down to their hands, before she nodded at them.

“I can see that, most gang attacks don't end in the attackers calling the attackee an ambulance but I've seen weirder things working here.” she took a seat on the coffee table in front of them before continuing, Geoff thought she looked tired. “Since you aren't direct family I shouldn't be allowed to tell you anything that's going on with him but admin has tried everything and they can't find anything on his family, do you know if he has anyone?”

 

“Listen we met the kid last night, he chased some muggers away from our friend but from what we could see he's alone”

 

She nodded at Ryan's words, “Okay, then I'll let you guys know what's happening, it's pretty severe and you guys obviously want to know what's going on considering you've been waiting here for six hours.”

 

Geoff nodded, grabbing Ryan's hand, he felt a deep sense of dread in the bottom of his gut.

 

“He was beaten pretty bad. His windpipe was crushed all signs pointing towards someone standing on it, he has several broken ribs and his left kneecap is in need of reconstruction. His right eardrum is impacted, and he has dozens of lacerations including a pretty nasty bruise on his stomach that was very lucky to not have connected with his splein. We've set his ribs and done all that we can with his knee and his ear at this stage, his orbital bone on the left also needed some close attention but we're confident that it will heal up nicely.”

 

Geoff felt Ryan squeeze his hand as he tried to process all of the information thrust at him, “Jesus”

 

“Yeah he's in pretty bad shape. He's still unconscious, we had to put him under to operate on him and he'd lost a lot of blood but his heart is strong and he seems to be responding well.”

 

“So he's going to be okay?” Ryan asked, Geoff noticed how hopeful he sounded and knew it was mirrored in the man's expression as well as his own. The doctor broke into a warm smile.

 

“We hope so, his injuries are still as I said quite extensive, his bodies been through a lot but he's stable at the moment. All we can really do at this stage is monitor him and wait for him to wake up”

 

Geoff felt himself let out a large breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and he smiled at the doctor, physically restraining himself from giving her a hug.

 

“Thank you, thank you for, for saving him and for letting us know we really really wanted him to be okay”

 

She nodded, “I could see that, most people who are brought in with injuries like that don't have anyone waiting for them out here” she said sadly.

 

“When can we see him?” Ryan again knowing the right thing to say, Geoff gave his hand a squeeze.

 

“You can see him now, as I said he's probably not going to wake up for at least another few hours, he's just down the hall, second to last door on the right. I'll be monitoring him for the rest of my shift. I suggest you both go home and get some rest after seeing him, I promise if he wakes up I'll get someone at the front desk to call you”

 

They all stood up and Geoff couldn't contain himself any longer, pulling the woman into a quick hug, Ryan smiled apologetically at her and she shrugged as Geoff let her go, “That doesn't happen very often but when it does I'm all for it” she smiled, waving at them before walking off.

 

“She's nice” Ryan said.

 

“She just saved Michael's life she's more than fucking nice”

 

They stood outside Michael's room for a moment, staring at the door before Ryan sighed and pushed it open, they were immediately met with the sound of beeping machines and harsh fluorescent lights.

 

“Oh god” Geoff heard Ryan whisper, when his eyes fell on Michael he knew why.

 

He'd looked worse at the apartment, but the blood had perhaps masked the extent of his injuries. There didn't seem to be an inch of skin that they could see that wasn't purple or blue. His left eye was bandaged as well as his neck. He had a machine helping him breathe and a dozen wires attached to his arms and chest.

 

“Who the fuck would do this?” Ryan said, mimicking the question he'd asked when they'd first found Michael. Geoff still didn't have an answer, but seeing the young man, so small and broken in the bed had him making his hands into fists.

 

He moved towards the bed and took a seat in the chair next to it, looking at Ryan tentatively before reaching out and taking Michael's hand, the unwavering need to protect overwhelming him, crawling from his chest and making him want to drive the dangerous streets of Michael's neighbourhood until he found who'd done this and doing it back to them ten times worse.

 

“I don't know” he replied finally, seeing Ryan take a seat on the remaining chair next to him.

 

“We can't leave him like this Geoff” Ryan said quietly.

 

Geoff nodded slowly, looking at Ryan understandingly, “We won't. We're here. We'll stay here” he said with finality, turning back towards the bed.

 

Geoff knew with absolute certainty that he wasn't going anywhere, even if when Michael woke up Geoff was the last person he wanted to see, he needed to make sure the kid was alright.

 

“We'll be here” he said, squeezing Michael's hand gently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know what you're thinking and I'm sorry but it's finally here! An update! Sure it's not very long but it's full of Geoff being worried and Ryan being lovely and it's basically just the gents and some medical mumbo jumbo I pulled out of my ass after ten seasons of watching Greys Anatomy.
> 
> Honestly though thank you for sticking around, this is one of my favourite fics I've written and I hadn't forgotten about it. I just have terrible writers block like always and am terrible at sticking to any one thing.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you for reading. You can reach me at demaraismarquis.tumblr.com if you have any questions at all. I love you!


End file.
